Winter's Mercy
by Death Mountain
Summary: That was the reason, I decided. The reason "wolf" sounded strange, the reason "human" felt unreal. That was why my reflection always seemed sad and far away. Wolfcry, from Betia's POV.
1. Prologue

Title: Winter's Mercy

Chapter: Prologue

Book: _Wolfcry_ (Amelia Atwater-Rhodes)

Rated: T

Author: DeathMountain

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolfcry or any part of Nyeuisgrube. That's AAR's.

* * *

Am I really me?

When I grew old enough to recognize a world outside my own, I started to lay awake at night asking this question.

Is there maybe another me, in the vastness of the world? Was the real me watching the same sky, outlining the same constellations, with the same half-filled heart?

That was the reason, I decided. The reason "wolf" sounded strange, the reason "human" felt unreal. That was why my reflection always seemed sad and far away. That must be it. Why else would I feel like a stranger to myself?

I looked first at the smaller, self-contained worlds of other shapeshifters; maybe the true me was hiding with the ancient Mistari, or the falcons in their beautiful white city, or the avians and serpiente of the infant realm of Wyvern's Court.

Wyvern's Court!

Oh, how could others call it naïve, foolish, doomed? For a short time I ached to see the market brimming with two cultures which had once clashed in bloodshed. Then I was growing up, and innocence no longer blinded me. I abandoned Wyvern's Court, my childhood dream.

My voice was not mine. Foreign tongues spilled over the tip of my tongue fluidly year after year, some with a musical lilt, others with guttural raw force. I liked bringing a small piece of those worlds to me, trapping them in my mind and my mouth. It made me happy to become useful to the pack with my tiny caged semi-worlds. But my ears found the sound of my voice unfamiliar.

Am I really me?

What am I doing, calling myself "wolf." I could not call myself "human." I could not even call myself . . . "me."

I tried, I did. I thought this was home.

Thank you, Velyo, for shattering my last small hope of belonging, the only remaining link on a dying chain. Thank you, you cur, for proving to me that I am NOT one of these people. Thank you for killing my last weakness, even as you used it to destroy me.

A knife in your heart and teeth in your throat, Velyo, for ruining every dream of home.

Wolves.

I can be neither a wolf nor a human anymore.

I cannot pretend I belong.

Betia of Frektane

* * *

I don't know if anyone has done this yet. If so, I don't give it damn. (No offense if anyone has begun a fic like this.)

As I go about writing this, it will be far from perfect. I don't intend to make it perfect, it's just something a little simpler that I wanted to do. I wanted to write something I didn't have to agonize over and beat myself up for if I don't finish.

It is most certainly not up to AAR's standard, _at all_. She's got years of experience on me, both creatively and with the editing and publishing and all that jazz. This is just me, either a future writer or a future bum, expressing my love for the glimpses AAR gives us of a truly engaging world living in her mind.

On a more personal note:

There are a few people, probably, who wonder where I've been lately.

I've been, like Betia in this story, looking for a part of myself.

My best friend, my sister, my teacher, my inspiration, my motivation—_her_—left for the sake of a small and beautiful life she gave birth to in February. With her, she took my heart.

To Olivia and Jocelyn . . . my two blonde angels.

(700 miles . . . that is how far to the other end of the universe.)


	2. Stranger

Title: Winter's Mercy

Chapter: 1 - Stranger

Book: _Wolfcry_ (Amelia Atwater-Rhodes)

Rated: T

Author: DeathMountain

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolfcry or any part of Nyeuisgrube. That's AAR's.

* * *

I know my family believes me too far gone for hope, but the human in me is strong enough to dream.

I wake from a nightmare of a banished memory to the chill of packed snow beneath my belly. My thick coat protects me from most of the cold, but sometimes it seeps through.

Sleep reminds me of what I buried away, the bruise of the final metaphorical stone striking my skull. In my waking hours I let myself be a wolf, as I was born to be, the animal without fear or reason, in a place where memories cannot reach.

Four months since betrayal. Four months since I had seen another person. So one could understand how the figure stumbling blindly through the trees came as a surprise. The unwelcome stranger took few steps before collapsing in a heap nearby, from exhaustion and starvation, no doubt. Not everyone was suited to the winter here, which proved cruel or kind on a whim.

Curiosity got the better of me; no wolf would be wandering so helplessly in this territory, so near to a pack's camp. But it was not a wolf, of course, as my nose alerted me. It was no one from around here, but a foreign, oddly-scented female.

Waves of inky black hair stood in stark contrast to the snow, and obscured a weary face that screamed hardship. The entire body was too soft to be native, vastly different from the wiry muscles of female wolves. She smelled faintly exotic, of sunshine and spice, and of wind. I buried my nose in her tangled and matted dark hair, and pushed it aside to find (much to my surprise) several ruffled golden feathers at the nape of her neck. An avian! All the way out here?

Hadn't the avians been living in Wyvern's Court for over a decade? What business did an unknown avian girl have traveling in wolf territory, on her feet no less!

The skin of her neck was almost as cold as the surrounding snow, and she was not waking up. She would surely freeze to death alone here, so I settled down next to her, pressing against her thin frame like a big furry blanket, her face buried in the fur of my neck.

So far from home, both of us. I snorted, blowing warm breath in her face. As long as she was here, I was the not the only one lost.

* * *


	3. Oliza

Title: Winter's Mercy

Chapter: 2 - Oliza

Book: _Wolfcry_ (Amelia Atwater-Rhodes)

Rated: T

Author: DeathMountain

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolfcry or any part of Nyeuisgrube. That's AAR's.

* * *

Her name was Oliza. Not quit an avian after all, but the half-breed daughter of Wyvern's Court's infamous royal couple—Danica Shardae and Zane Cobriana. 

Oliza Shardae-Cobriana, the only individual who could be more lost here than myself. I did not have long to wonder what the future queen of Wyvern's Court was doing in danger of hypothermia outside Frektane pack-lands. She deduced that I would not be speaking any time soon, or maybe she thought I was human enough to listen but too animal to care that much. Either way, for lack of options I led her in the direction of Frektane, while all the way she poured out her life story.

Her tales went backwards, starting with being kidnapped by lion mercenaries, and often repeated themselves. Whatever lions had been up to making off with the young princess and invading wolf territory . . . I couldn't guess, but it was clear to me that they were responsible for Oliza's state of mind and body now. The brutes had terrorized her, and I found myself aching in sympathy.

She spoke most often of her family, of her falcon friend Nicias, and her close friends among avians and serpiente. Her voice trembled when she came to the python Urban and the crow Marus, rivals for her affections. How either people, not just her suitors, were blatantly uncomfortable around each other. How she loved Nicias like a brother, but how confusing it was to never feel more attracted to him (or for that matter, to Marus or Urban). And how constantly she was pressed to choose a mate that would not tear Wyvern's Court apart.

Several times we stopped to rest (for her sake) and find food. Looking at her, I could not imagine her casually choosing a mate politically, but it should not be so complicated. Neither of us seemed to be so lucky in that aspect, with people pushing in directions we could not go. Not that I could speak for Oliza, but I had to wonder if the reality of Wyvern's Court was really as great as the dream.

It worried me to hear Oliza jumping between unfinished sentences. I had to really push her to reach Frektane in time for them to help her, and I knew never to let her sleep, if I wanted her to wake again.

"—they love each other so much," she mumbled in the middle of elaborating on her serpiente cousin Salem, and looked up as though surprised to hear those words from her mouth. Very quickly tears sprung to her eyes and I butted her urgently in the back of the knees—not long now. Her hand brushed over my fur, ruffling it, and she started walking again, muttering incomprehensibly under her breath.

Familiar odors rode the wind, and I hesitated, but we were so close I could see a red fire, spitting flames and ash on the snow. With every nudge I encouraged Oliza to move faster.

The wolf in me eventually overcame the human, remembering what had happened so close to this place, what could never happen again. I hear a shout from the figure tending the fire, and I fled in the opposite direction, away from the camp and away from Oliza. I could only hope I had delivered her to safety.

Again, I was alone.

* * *

Truthfully, I've already written several more chapters, but granted a few are short enough to make you scream. Shorter than this one, yes. Most of them are pretty short. Sorry. 


	4. Friend

Title: Winter's Mercy

Chapter: 3 - Friend

Book: _Wolfcry_ (Amelia Atwater-Rhodes)

Rated: T

Author: DeathMountain

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolfcry or any part of Nyeuisgrube. That's AAR's.

* * *

Though I had not come so close to my old pack-land in months, I did not return to where I handed off Oliza. But out of some concern for the wyvern and an odd curiosity, this time I lingered as near as I dared to Frektane's camp. I needed not worry about being confronted; few people ventured outside the camp at this time of year.

I did notice that lions had been through this area very recently, only days ago. Undoubtedly the same mercenaries who took Oliza were now searching for their lost charge.

It was oddly lonely without the wyvern, whose company I had grown fond of in a matter of days. Maybe because she was not a wolf, and she could talk and ask questions without expecting answers (or because she had only me, and I her), but a virtual stranger had been the first person I was comfortable with in a long time.

I'm a woman, and wolves are nurturing creatures. There was no getting around my maternal instinct, and it was nice to have someone depend on me like that, but I dismissed this. I could not conceive of any motherly emotions toward Oliza.

Snow fell, and I wandered the outskirts of Frektane land, as though another lost wyvern might stumble through the trees.

She would have met my mother and Pratl. They would tell her I have gone feral. I did not even think of what Velyo might say of me. I hoped only that Oliza was safe around him.

Waiting proved productive; days later I followed a new trail from the pack's camp to a thin girl in the forest curled up between a boulder and a felled pine tree, sleeping soundly.

Sleeping, as I had found her the first time. Fear and anger lingered acridly in the air around her, tied to an unpleasantly familiar male scent. Velyo obviously had not changed, but if I could make a guess I would say he'd met his match. Oliza was unharmed, and besides the painfully familiar clothes on her person, her only possession was a knife I immediately recognized as my brother's.

This girl under my protection (already I thought that way) had returned to me, but carrying reminders of the home I had rejected, and a family I still remembered. A curse and a blessing in scales and feathers.

I left her den only long enough to hunt down a deer and drag it back to her. Inside I curled up next to the wyvern like two pups, completely at ease.

When she finally stirred, muttering good morning to me, all the tension fled my muscles. I was able to stretch and present her with the deer carcass, and the smile on her face was more reward than enough. She skinned and cleaned it clumsily, working around where I had taken my fill. As she worked, I sat in silence at her side, absorbing new stories.

At the mention of Velyo, the growl that escaped was instinctive; the sound of name stirred something nasty at the back of my mind. (But I was comforted, for I believe she did understand as she said.)

Velyo was not our problem right now. My hackles raised and another growl rumbled deep in my chest. At the first whiff of lions I immediately moved with intention only to protect Oliza.

She turned to me with wide, child-like eyes, radiating fear.

_Run! _I conveyed the word to her in my own eyes, imploring her to trust me. Without a doubt I felt all her faith resting on me, and only me. As silently as possible we slipped through the trees as one, leading each other away from danger.

Oliza was too slow clambering through unfamiliar ground, and the lions had no trouble following us. We had to pick up the pace.

My wyvern vanished suddenly below the ground, and the next second I pitched head over hills down a sudden steep incline, the same bank that surprised Oliza. I oriented myself a recovered on a stable surface, urging my clumsier companion to start moving again.

Breath coming in short gasps, her thin arms found my shoulders and I steadied myself to help her to her feet.

Behind us, the lions seemed to waver, to our fortune allowing time to put some distance between them and us. I wondered how much longer this could go on, with my wyvern weakening steadily.

But I sought out her eyes and against all reason, I suddenly knew that I would let no harm come to this child. My desire to protect Oliza had become a promise.

* * *

I'm not interested in making it perfect right now. Have fun picking it apart. I'm very apathetic right now. 


	5. Me

Title: Winter's Mercy

Chapter: 4 - Me

Book: _Wolfcry_ (Amelia Atwater-Rhodes)

Rated: T

Author: DeathMountain

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolfcry or any part of Nyeuisgrube. That's AAR's.

* * *

In the days after we fled the lions' pursuit, Oliza distracted herself by reciting ancient myths and bards' poems of both avian and serpiente culture. She skinned rabbits to the tale of Alasdair (repeated and reprised) and wove through trees to dancers' mythology and songs she had learned as a child. 

I became certain that she spoke directly to me, rather than around my ears as she had at first. In her words I recalled much of my studies as a member of Frektane's pack, particularly my fascination with the dancer hierarchy in serpiente society. I often gazed at Oliza's worn face and imagined her falling into steps as a naturally as any serpent.

"Nicias and Sive were about as approving as my parents when I learned that blade dance. They watch me as if I'm made of glass," she added. "I think my parents have delusions about my succession to the throne. You know they married just to stop the war? But they fell in love anyway. Do they really think they will be so lucky twice?

"When I get back I'll just be in the middle of that whole mess again. I get the feeling that no matter whom I choose, my people just won't be happy."

She looked so lost; I whined and rested my head in her lap, earning a warm smile and a hand stroking my fur.

"Thank you," she said. "Betia."

The gray of winter had been colored by the illusion of spring.

She expressed concerns before about traveling south, so we veered off in safer directions for several days, on the trail of streams and tributaries. The journey took its toll on Oliza, and when I realized quickly that the food I caught was never enough for both of us, I stopped eating and relied on my animal strength.

I became less a wolf and less a human, but more and more I became me.

* * *

I reserve the right to bitch about my lack of sleep. (Not because of this, just lack of sleep in general.) Next chapter is one of those short ones I mentioned. 


	6. Butterfly

Title: Winter's Mercy

Chapter: 5 - Butterfly

Book: _Wolfcry_ (Amelia Atwater-Rhodes)

Rated: T

Author: DeathMountain

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolfcry or any part of Nyeuisgrube. That's AAR's.

* * *

I do not dream much, but about a week later I was running through a dreamscape, and snow bit into my completely human feet. High above me a glorious golden-winged creature blended in with the sun. My arm was outstretched, fingers grasping at the elusive transience of an imaginary butterfly. 

Oliza was beside me when I woke from the dream, and I lay back down into a much more tranquil sleep.

* * *

Don't even start with me. 


	7. Sleep

Title: Winter's Mercy

Chapter: 6 - Sleep

Book: _Wolfcry_ (Amelia Atwater-Rhodes)

Rated: T

Author: DeathMountain

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolfcry or any part of Nyeuisgrube. That's AAR's.

* * *

I pushed her too hard. This became evident the moment she collapsed at the peak of her exhaustion. When she did not pull herself out of the snow I barked, alarmed, and crouched down by her head. The unfocused eyes and brow damp with sweat shot a stab of guilt through my gut. Was this my fault? Could we have gone slower?

She curled up, clutching her stomach. I buried my nose in her hair and whimpered. A breath started a fit of wracking coughs, sending her into dry heaves that lasted for several minutes. She trembled like a leaf in a storm and wept silently.

I paced circles around her, panicking. Without any ideas I forced myself to leave her, trusting she would be safe as I hurried to the nearest river. I managed several futile attempts to snatch fish in a hurry before fear won over and dragged me back to Oliza's prone and shivering form.

Bedraggled, soaking wet, and feeling miserably helpless, I couldn't have looked much better than she did. But she smiled on seeing me, even through a feverish haze, and summoned enough strength to clumsily grab my shoulder. I washed her face with my tongue, trying to keep her warm. Finally her eyelids drooped and she went limp.

_Don't die!_ I whimpered.

I didn't even need to think about it, I just needed it. Suddenly I was fleshy and pink and vulnerable to the cold, and my knees were in the snow, covered by soft warm pants that insulated long human legs. The snow was saturated with color; a hand wandered over my eyes, my nose and mouth.

The fascination with my old form faded quickly. Oliza was in danger.

Cradling her to my own body, the first rational thought that sprang into my mind was to find water, and I followed my gut, carrying her back to the stream. My arms had a life of their own, clinging to the sickly wyvern with no intention of letting go. _You will have plenty of time to hold her later, unless you let her die! _I chastised them.

Oliza came to long enough to sip water greedily from my cupped hands until she started coughing again. I sat against a tree, pulling Oliza into my lap and cradling her head to my chest as I alternately stroked her hair and rubbed her shoulders.

I knew we needed a fire, so I tucked Oliza in a shallow handcrafted burrow of snow while I kindled a small flame. Her shivers subsided, the head sinking into her body.

Every hunting and foraging skill I ever learned went into snatching a rabbit bare-handed, straight from its burrow, and cooking it over the fire. To Oliza I fed the most tender bits of meat, urging her to eat a little more each time she woke.

Night, and the day after that. Holding Oliza like a child, sharing warmth. A fire apart from the one I struck seemed to burn in my chest, giving me boundless strength.

* * *

As always, thank you for the reviews (I do read them, believe it or not), and I'm sorry about the painfully slow update time short chapters.

Again, I'd like to point out that this is by no means a nice polished piece of work. Whenever I feel like going back over it in the future, I will.


	8. Tears

Title: Winter's Mercy

Chapter: 7 - Tears

Book: _Wolfcry_ (Amelia Atwater-Rhodes)

Rated: T

Author: DeathMountain

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolfcry or any part of Nyeuisgrube. That's AAR's.

* * *

Night again, and an unfamiliar sound pulled me from a daze, When something warm leaked from my eyes I realized that the sound was of me crying. 

Crying because we were safe, because Oliza wasn't going to die. Crying because I wasn't alone.

I need her.

* * *

Had you fooled there, didn't I? Because when you see more than one chapter at once from me, it means they're a) extremely short or b) products of my guilt at not putting out enough. 

Please don't be mad at me. (sigh)


	9. Together

Title: Winter's Mercy

Chapter: 8 - Together

Book: _Wolfcry_ (Amelia Atwater-Rhodes)

Rated: T

Author: DeathMountain

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolfcry or any part of Nyeuisgrube. That's AAR's.

* * *

I knew Oliza was finally coherent when she did not immediately take her eyes off me, studying the new—new to her—me. A part of me wondered if she could see the same stains I did, and if she would hate me for them.

"Good morning, Betia." Her voice was clearer than it had been since she collapsed, and she said my name with such a strong affection to it, it warmed my entire body.

She made no indication that she expected me to speak back, as always. Even after only four months the mechanism of a human throat felt strange, and I wanted to avoid hearing my voice if I could.

"You keep taking care of me," Oliza muttered after I checked her fever. It sounded like a question. Weary eyes found mine as I turned away from tending to the rabbit had set to cook over our small fire.

I cocked my head and smiled toothily, the pull at the muscles in my face seeming oddly tight, as though stretching a false skin too small for me over my true body. But Oliza beamed quizzically in return with all the radiance of the sun, and that was all I wanted. Satisfied, I went back to turning the rabbit over the fire.

She still didn't look away. I cooked and finished the rabbit, pretending I couldn't feel her watching me.

But a pleasant warmth had spread through my chest and between my shoulder blades, the faint euphoria of . . . pride? Was that it? Truthfully, I wanted her to look at me. I wanted Oliza to see me and to know me. Maybe then she could show me who I was. Maybe she could show me Betia.

* * *

"Eeeeeeeee!" is the sound of happiness. "Eeeeeeeeee!"

Never mind.

So, who here's watching Heroes? Sylar for President much? Aaaawww riiiiiight.


End file.
